


Journey into an Augmented Yesteryear

by fresne



Series: Voyages of the Bakerstreet [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: The Animated Series, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dubious consent that has nothing to do with sex, Other, Previously mentioned minor character death, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: When Sherlock and John make a visit to the Guardian of Forever in an effort to travel back in time to the past on the Breen home world, they discover they must go back in time to save Sherlock's life as a child, or erase Sherlock (and the Federation) from existence.





	1. Sherlock's POV

**Author's Note:**

> In which I finally really get into some Star Trek cartoon crossover.  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Yesteryear_(episode)

Sherlock walked easily through the broken streets of the ruined city. He and John jumped down from the slab that had bisected the street just as another time wave swept through the ruins, but this time John didn't lose his footing.

Somewhere behind them, Sh'Alaack muttered, "I'm surprised that the Federation allowed us to come down here."

Erickson, the historian that they were ostensibly escorting through the ruin, said, "But why, the benefits of being able to record events from any era on any world far outweigh the risks."

It had taken Sherlock some time to locate a historian from a university willing to propose the journey and with the political clout to be able to request a Starship to escort his team through the Federation mine field around this world.

It had taken Sherlock some time hacking into Memory Alpha to even determine the existence of a world like this. But knowing that there were wormhole aliens who existed outside of time and that it was possible to travel through time – if inexactly – through the cold start of a warp core while moving rapidly around a star, and that the Breen had developed their own form of this technology, then it was probable that Starfleet had encountered time travel before. It was simply a matter of breaking into the records that documented the encounter.

If he and John could not travel back in time through the Breen time machine to assist the children he'd left behind, Sherlock would find another way. John rubbed his shoulder affectionately. Sherlock did not need to look to know that John's face was full of affection.

It was why he looked away. He needed to steady himself on his fixed point.

They came to the asymmetrical stone circle in the center of a small plaza. A voice boomed out of the center of the circle swirling with colors. "I am the Guardian of Forever. The pathway to any time and any place. Look through me to observe any time. Travel through me for any adventure."

"Excellent," said Erickson. "Time to um…" he chuckled, "make history." His interns sighed.

Sherlock ignored him. "We would like to visit the Breen home world, the cave of the ancestors, while the first cave painters were active within the cave."

The colors in the Guardian shivered and spun. "I cannot."

"But you said that you can send us to any place. Any time!" said John. "That's what you said!" John's shoulders were back. His head high. He was talking with his see-it-through tone. The tone of voice that made Sherlock want to wrap himself around John and simultaneously be enfolded by him.

The air around them filled with a thick mist, which partially obscured the Guardian. "That particular point of time and space is disturbed with hundreds of furrows between various times and realities. Is there no other time and place that you would like to visit?"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around himself. This had been their best chance. "No."

"I would like to observe the dawn of the Andorian civilization," said Erickson, fairly bristling in his white beard. He glared at Sherlock. "You know, the subject of my grant proposal. The reason we're here."

They spent a tedious hour while Erickson and his team went back in time on Andor, while Sh'Alaack recorded the history flickering in the center of the Guardian's time portal.

John sat down on a pillar that had toppled and was now halfway sunken into the soil. Sherlock curled up and laid his head in John's lap. John stroked his hair. Rubbed his back. Whispered, "It's fine. It's all fine. We know they survived. Had children of their own. We'll figure something else out. We always do."

Sherlock wanted to snarl that there was nothing else. He'd done the calculations. There was no way to use a cold fusion start to fly the Bakerstreet to precisely the correct era. The stress of a fifty centuries year journey would tear the ship apart. This had been their best opportunity to discover what had happened after they left the Breen Stone Age. Their best opportunity to recover whatever children they had left there, or at least provide them with modern supplies. Medicine. Not abandon them. To know them. Had one survived? More? Possible names filled the halls of his memory palace. Names he'd never know.

The rucksack that he'd filled with tools that morning lay mocking him on the ground. He twisted to kick it across the plaza.

"Hey, there. Easy." John resumed carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock melted into his touch. Time, if that was an accurate term given the location, passed.

"Captain, Erickson is back," said Sh'Alaack, which was fine. Sherlock did not want to spend another moment on this planet.

John kept his hand in Sherlock's the entire way out of the time distortion field given off by the Guardian to the nearest safe place for transport.

Sherlock hailed the Bakerstreet irritably, but there was no answer. There was no answer when John tried. Nor Sh'Alaack. Nor even Erickson or his graduate students.

Sh'Alaack said, "Something must have happened."

An understatement of such enormity that Sherlock only shot her a brief look. Sherlock said, "You remain here with Erickson and continue to try to contact the Bakerstreet. Sherlock ran back to the Guardian through waves of time.

He told it, "We're unable to reach our ship."

"Of course," it boomed. "The Federation no longer exists. When the Borg invaded Earth, Starfleet's local defenses attempted to channel fusion energy from the Sol star through the lunar defense systems to destroy the Borg ship, which resulted in a chain reaction that destroyed the entire system along with the Borg ship. With two of its founding worlds, Vulcan and Earth, destroyed, and the Andorian reproduction rates reaching an extinction level point, the Federation quickly fell to invasions by its nearest neighbors."

John skidded into the plaza. "Did Dr. Erickson change the timeline when he traveled through you?"

"No," said the Guardian. "He and his team did not do significant damage when they killed thirty-eight insects by walking through the field of chemja flowers. The insects would have died soon after and had no role in causing the plague that would occur in the following year."

John's hands curled into fists. "So, what changed?"

"Sherlock Holmes died at age nine on the Breen home world. Which in turn caused the disappearance of the Augment inhabitants of the Breen home world. Although, the Fenisal still destroyed their world in a nuclear war."

"What? But how, Sherlock's right here," said John, stating the obvious as he so often endearingly did.

"Within the radius of my influence, nothing can be affected by changes in timelines. I am within and without time. I am. It is the reason that you, John Watson, are here as well. All Augments, and a good portion of the human race, were eradicated by Colonel Green by 2241 because the Bakerstreet never went back in time and enabled Anthea and the first Mycroft Holmes to meet. There was no Breen agent to assist them."

"Why did I die?" asked Sherlock, which was more to the point.

"You did not go back in time to save yourself," said the Guardian. More mist swirled around the plaza. "I did ask if you wished to visit another time and place, which you declined."

"How were we supposed to interpret that question as travel back in time to save Sherlock's life?" John lifted his chin, his blue eyes wonderfully angry.

"Take us to the time and place before I die," said Sherlock.

"A well chosen destination," said the Guardian. Its center filled in with a long hallway.

John took Sherlock's hand. "Let's go save you."

Sherlock couldn't have loved John any more than he did at the moment they both jumped through the portal.


	2. Chin Singh's POV

Outside the wide window of the gymnasium, the teenagers from the other alignments were gathering in the snow to begin the Fenisrala. The twenty mile run through the Serrated Mountains to the cave of the ancestors, where they would take their place among the adults.

Chin Singh envied them, but she was years away from being old enough.

The teen had been chattering in the gymnasium for the last several days of the Meiosis of Alignments, while Chin and her brothers, free for once from their tutors, hid beneath the equipment and listened to their plans of attack for the course.

Now even their cousin, who'd bothered to entertain them with stories about pirates, had left the gym. It was just them.

Mshindi Victorius, Victor, paced in front of the window planning for when they would take on the trek when they were older.

Privately, Chin doubted they'd ever be allowed to go. They were princes of the 23rd Alignment. The smallest alignment. The most recent. Not every child survived the Fenisrala. Their parents would never risk them on such a journey. Mycroft hadn't been allowed to go when he'd turned sixteen last year. They certainly would not allow them to take the route Victor was planning. The shorter and more dangerous five mile journey through the splintered ice canyons.

Normally, William would be listening to Victor. Following his every word. Instead, he was quiet. Deep in his own thoughts. Chin sat next to him. Dared to place her hand next to his on the balance beam and brush her little finger against his. He looked up at her and nodded. Curled his little finger over hers.

William's pet sehlat, I-Chaya, had been injured a week ago. Mummy had insisted that William be the one to end its suffering so that he would understand that the weight of responsibility for something in his care.

Eventually, Victor noticed how quiet William was being and he did the thing Victor always did. The reason why Chin knew that for all that their tutors encouraged each of them to compete that Victor would be selected to follow their parents as the leader of the 23rd alignment. He grinned and took the stories that they'd just been told and made even better ones. He said, "I'm Redbeard, the dread pirate. The first to navigate the splinter asteroid field in five parsecs."

He'd already assigned William his pirate name. Yellowbeard.

Victor named her Bloody Hands, because it wasn't as if she could just use her real name as her pirate name. Even if she had been named for a pirate.

Chin didn't waste an instant. She tackled Victor before he could jump and knock her off the balance beam. It was a three way battle. They climbed over equipment, while Victor narrated their journey competing to find the treasure that lay in the cave of the ancestors. Something to do with ancient rocks.

Their play may have gotten a little rough. But that was fine. There was nothing they couldn't heal from. Nothing they couldn’t do. Victor narrated how it was utterly unfair that they weren't allowed to go into the Serrated Mountains just because they were too young.

They were sprawled on the mats when their sister, Euros, crept into the room.

"No, we're not allowed to play with you!" said Chin firmly, sitting up. "Mother and our Fathers said so." Chin Singh was glad. Euros made her feel uncomfortable. It wasn't just that she was a year older. Mycroft was even older, but he was just boring. 

Mummy had been trying to do something special with Euros' allele group, but it hadn't worked the way they wanted, which was why most of their other siblings died while they were being gestated or worse. Victor told them horror stories about the worse.

Euros came closer. She held out her hand. She had a small crystal in it. "I have a treasure. You could try and take it from me. Like real pirates. I'll be the Ice Queen."

Victor stood back. "No. I don't want to play with you."

William looked at Victor. He looked at Chin. She repeated. "We're not supposed to play with her."

William's lower lip firmed. He said, "Euros, I'll be your pirate knight." Victor scoffed that wasn't a thing. But William said, "My pirate ship will sail from the natural harbor in your capital city and I'll be your pirate knight."

Chin looked at Victor, whose expression was full of outrage at this treason. Mutiny. William always copied Victor. Always. Except for the last week. Except when Victor hadn't understood why William cared if I-Chaya had to die and William had to be the one to put him down.

Victor lunged at Euros. She was halfway up a set of parallel bars as soon as he moved. She leapt out onto the rings before he could get close.

"Not fair! You're reading our minds," said Chin.

"I can't help it," said Euros.

"You can!" yelled Victor. "You cheat. And you're mean and creepy. You're not a Queen and you never will be."

"You're the mean one!"

Chin felt something when Euros said that. A sharp pain behind her right eye.

Euros said, "You always play together and I never get to." Not exactly true. Most days, they had to train from the moment they woke until they went to bed, but during the Meiosis they had gotten to play all day.

Euros held up that treasure again and it gleamed. It shone with the fire of a thousand dreams.

Blood Hands could see that Redbeard had to have that treasure. All that was standing between him and getting it was that traitor Yellowbeard.

That horrible Ice Queen waved her treasure in the air. "I want to play." Yellowbeard threw a chair through the window and she followed him out before they could stop their escape.

The ice was full of enemies. Giants running across the ice in armor, who streamed around them. The giants didn't matter. What mattered was the treasure.

What mattered was making it through the splinter canyons to the Ice Queen's palace where she kept her treasure. They would defeat the evil Ice Queen, and that traitor, Yellowbeard, and get the treasure.


	3. John's POV

There was a pop and John found himself standing to one side of a large mirror lined reception room full of hundreds of augments dressed in styles from across the quadrant. Many of them had small pads in one hand. Others were holding glasses of sparkling liquid. He'd never actually seen this many augments in one place. There was a strange surreal quality when John realized that there were no Normal humans anywhere. Just Augments. Not exiles stranded in a cave. Augments representing a major power in the Alpha quadrant.

John looked over at Sherlock, who was staring wide eyed at the room. Sherlock said, "This is the building where they hold the Meiosis of Alignments on the Breen home world. The temple we visited before is not far." He went further into the room and John followed, glancing once behind them, but there was no portal. Only mirrored walls and tapestries. This time at least, all they had to do was call for a ride home.

Sherlock took them up a spiral staircase to a wide hallway lined with murals of what looked like gene scans. They went through an open door and into yet another reception room, where yet more partying was in full swing.

Mycroft, still recognizable despite the youthful softness of a teen, was speaking earnestly to some visitors in green. "Welcome to the 23rd Alignment's rooms. Please, have an algae cake and stay to discuss our possible genetic contributions."

Sherlock muttered, "You've had one too many algae cakes already," and turned away from him. John smiled and nodded. He felt a bit of a berk with the rucksack still on his back, but he had no way of knowing how this was going to go. If it was at all like other adventures, he'd be glad to have it soon.

A child, maybe nine or so years old, ran into the room followed by a much paler and very recognizable child of the same age. The first child yelled, "I'm the first one past the ass. I win!"

Little Sherlock smiled faintly at the floor. "Victorius, you called Mycroft an ass."

Mycroft, with the long suffering sigh of an eternally old teenager, said, "Where are your tutors? You should be at your studies. Not running around the halls unsupervised."

"Not during the Meiosis!" yelled Victorius, which said something about their parents if those were the kind of names they chose.

A girl, young Chin by her eyes and face, skidded into the room. "Why did we come in here? It's boring here."

Mycroft expanded the radius of his frown of disapproval.

John bumped his shoulder against Sherlock. "Looks like some things don't change."

Just then little Sherlock spotted Sherlock. He came closer. "Who are you? You look like Mummy." He wrinkled his nose. "But you're an Alpha like me."

Sherlock didn't even pause a beat. He said, "I am an Augment Inferior agent who was altered to appear like your Mummy for operations among the Betas. Given the complexities of the family derivation, you may call me your cousin."

"Oh," said little Sherlock.

Victorius sighed. "I'll never be an agent. We have to be princes. It's so boring."

Little Sherlock nodded his agreement.

Victorius sniffed, clearly not that interested in a couple of adults, said, "Let's climb up to the chandelier. We could be monkeys."

"That would be fun," said little Chin.

"Children, do not climb the furnishings," said Mycroft tiredly. "There is a gymnasium full of equipment for you to climb. This room is for adults talking about adult matters."

Which was when another child crawled out from under the table. "I already climbed the chandelier." They looked to be only a year or so older than the other children. They had a much more pronounced case of heterochromia iridum with one blue eye and one brown. They were wearing a filmy sort of silk dress in shades of blue with white gloves. Completely not the sort of thing a child could play in at all.

They drifted towards Sherlock and said in a sing song voice that John had certain was pretty well engraved in his memory. Euros. "Sorry, about your sehlat."

Little Sherlock gave a soft snuffle. John glanced at Sherlock, who looked drawn and pale. His skin stretched tight around his eyes, his eyes rapidly blinking. Looking at something only he, and apparently Euros could see.

Victorius glared at Euros. "Get out of his head! You don't belong there. We're not supposed to be around you." They tugged on little Sherlock's arm. "Let's get away from her." But little Sherlock, stubborn already, pulled his arm away. Victorius sniffed and marched past Mycroft who was talking rapidly into a jeweled bracelet.

Chin Singh followed Victor immediately.

Little Sherlock glanced back at Euros. He said very softly, "We could maybe play sometime." Then quietly followed his siblings.

Sherlock said, "Stay here. I'll follow the others." He went after the children.

Euros looked up a John curiously. "Your mind is funny. It's full of silver and stars. I can't see through it."

"Well, there's a good reason for that," said John. "I was in an accident a number of years ago. I was exposed to an energy anomaly, which altered my brain's chemistry. In particular my paracortex, which is what you access when you read minds." He knelt down. "For a little while, I was telepathic, like you."

"Really," said Euros, rubbing the side of her face. "I can't read your mind to tell."

"It's true, it's just not that common," said John.

"Interesting," said a voice like cultured leather. John turned and found himself looking up at a tall bronzed alpha, wearing tight leather pants that left nothing to the imagination. Not that the open vest that exposed a well-muscled chest and abs was hiding much either. The alpha's thick ornate gold ring left it very clear what gender he wished to be referred to. Not that there were many doubts about Khan Noonian Singh, but the old pictures did not do justice to his father-in-law's raw magnetism.

Noonian held out his hand to Euros. "Euros, you must not pay attention to your siblings. They will realize the value of your abilities as you all mature."

She put her hands behind her back. "Father, all you care about is how I can walk around in minds. You think about it all the time. I know Mummy made me from you and them and aliens, but I'm not an alien. I'm not creepy. It's not my fault the others didn't make it or that they… did things and had to be… please stop thinking about it. It's not my fault." Her eyes were hot. Wild. Her cheeks flushed.

"Of course, it's not your fault," said John not looking around the room. Not focused on anything but the child needing comfort. "Although, other species aren't so bad." John slid his pack off and rummaged around for the packet of dried fruit at the bottom. "I know a Betazed, who can read minds like anything." He lowered his voice. "She likes to pretend that she's just a little old lady, but really she's one of the most dangerous people I know. She used to be a spy and everything." He ate some dried cherries and held the packet out to Euros.

She looked up at Noonian, who said, "You may have as much fits in your palm and know that if it were poisoned, I would break this omega's neck. I would avenge any harm to any of my children. You have my word that what happened to the others of your allele group will not happen to you."

That was both creepy and endearing, which made sense given this was also one of Sherlock's parents.

Euros sniffled. "Yes, Daddy." She had some sort of crystal that she must have liberated from the chandelier in her hand. John winked at her and waited for her to put it into a small embroidered pocket before pouring out enough to fill her hand. She ate one. "Mmmm… tastes like the earth eating dirt and drinking sunshine. I wish I could drink sunshine."

"There are races that can do that," said John, who was completely prepared to babble about anything to keep Euros calm.

"Come," said Noonian. "Brit should hear of this psychic accident to determine if it may be of use in their experiments."

John pulled his pack back on and stood up. Over a decade in and he was finally going to meet Sherlock's parents. Hopefully not before they sliced him up to see how he ticked. "I should mention that it was only temporary and had a hundred percent side effect that anyone exposed will explode if it's not reversed. But it does mean that my brain is," he waved his hand at his head, "a little squirrely against psychics."

"Silvery," said Euros. "Like reflections on a mountain lake."

"Again, not without a possible benefit," said Noonian. "What is your alignment? I do not see any insignia on your clothing."

"Oh, I'm a…" John tried to remember the phrase Sherlock had used, "Augment Inferior."

"Ah, Brit's project." Noonian smiled widely. "Then you are ours."

"Uh, I prefer to think of myself as mine," said John feeling more than a little lost in the conversation.

"Having been rescued from the mediocrity of the Betas," said Noonian, "you are now free to think so, but please," the alpha's smile was lethal, "give credit to those who gave you that freedom." He pulled aside a tapestry of a Breen riding one of those giant cat things to reveal a small dimly lit alcove.

John didn't want to lose track of Euros, so he waved at the opening and did the sort of little bow that drew giggles from the children on the Bakerstreet. "After her Majesty," he pointed up at the crystals dripping off the chandelier, "after all, that looks like a magic crystal. Which makes you the Ice Queen and that's your treasure." Her dress was more than a bit like Queen Elsa's from that old classic Disney movie.

She giggled. "I like you. You're silly." She skipped her way through the opening. "Mummy, I'm the Ice Queen."

John stepped into the alcove and stopped in front of a couch where Sherlock – if Sherlock were older and colder and an omega – was currently kissing a dangerously athletic looking Alpha in a skin tight black leather outfit, which if John wasn't mistaken was Khan Meiying.

Meiying wore an impossible intricate silver ring on the hand that was plucking at the flies of what must be Sherlock's Mum's trousers.

While Sherlock's Mum, Brittanus, was wearing a crystal ring. It was green or blue or gold. John tried to remember what all the colors meant, but came up with all of the above.

Brittanus pulled away from Meiying to glance at Euros. "A curious turn of phrase." Their eyes – looking like brilliant green ice in the light streaming around the tapestry – lanced through John. He tried telling himself the truth of who he was so utterly absurd that Sherlock's Mum couldn't possibly pluck it out of the air. After being married umpteen years, John was meeting Sherlock's parents like a stand-in shoved on stage with no script. Brittanus said, "Noonian, who is this and why have you brought him here? Mei and I have already progressed far in our negotiations for our next move."

"Brit noted your absence," said Mei. "At this rate, you'll lose your share entirely." Her lips twisted. "Especially if you stop to dally with genetic sports. Look at it. Not even a full Augment or couldn't you tell again?"

Noonian crossed very muscled arms. "Mei, we have discussed this. We do not have the numbers to treat as equals within the rest of the alignments without the Augment Inferior. We cannot remain penitents at the feast if we are to thrive. Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven, and hell needs recruits."

"Also, he," said John raising his hand with its sensible gold ring. "I use he and he's standing right here."

"It is also clear that Noonian did not bring him here for the purpose of coupling." Brittanus leaned to one side in a clear invitation that Noonian took to slide behind them – and wasn't it just getting crowded on that couch. "But whatever secrets he holds, they can wait until our negotiations have finished."

"Eww," said Euros, which was somewhat John's sentiment, who was watching the whole thing in horrified fascination. Because Brittanus was Sherlock's Mum for fuck's sake, but they looked exactly like Sherlock and even if Noonian and Mei were Sherlock's dads, they weren't hard on the eyes or nose either.

So much for Sherlock's idea that his parents had never had sex. This wasn't even that private.

"Maybe, I should take Euros and go," said John. 

"Remember my warning," said Noonian absently.

John escaped as Noonian reached across Brittanus to cup Mei's cheek.

The tapestry fell over the alcove door behind John. "So," he said more to scrub his brain, "ever hear of the story Frozen?"

"No," said Euros pulling out the word. He had to wonder if she was searching the minds of the people around them.

"Well, you're about to. It's full of singing and dancing and you're going to benefit from my childhood obsession with it because," he waved back at the alcove, "as I recall, singing in your own head can keep the voices down."

"Really!" said Euros softly. Brightly. Hopefully.

"Really!" he said with absolute firmness and looked around the room for a place to get with that program.


	4. Redbeard's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes from Moby Dick. As obviously inspired by Wrath of Khan.

Redbeard followed the tracks deep into the icy narrow ice canyon.

Bloody Hands said, "I'm leaving something behind. But I don't know what it is."

"It's your heart," said the Redbeard. He knew that was the answer. He knew it as certainly as he knew his own name. "It was stolen by the evil Ice Queen for her partner, Yellowbeard, and placed in a bird inside a fox inside a sehlat that lives deep in the mountains.

Bloody Hands was a pirate queen, but she couldn't live without her heart.

"It's hard to believe that Yellowbeard would turn against us like this," she said.

Redbeard said flatly, "He betrayed our band and that can't go unpunished. Come on."

They managed to catch up to them once on their journey through the narrow spaces. Redbeard flung a rock at the Ice Queen, but using her magic powers, she moved out of the way. She laughed as if this was fun. As if this was a game. As if she was toying with them. She snapped her fingers and the world went white for a few minutes. As if the snow whirling high above the canyon filled it.

When Redbeard's vision cleared, he found that he'd stumbled dangerously close to an even deeper crevice. He stood there, breathing carefully. Focusing on not falling. Trying to decide if the wide fluffy snowflakes that filled his vision were really there.

It was in that moment, that a young feradon loomed up from its hiding place behind the rocks, its jagged tusks dripping with poison. Redbeard had lost his cutlass somewhere – pirates always had cutlasses – he couldn't remember where, but he hefted a rock. There had been a story once about someone very small facing down a creature with rocks. He was that story. He was going to be in every story and every adventure.

Everyone would sing of his glories and every thought would be of him.

He wasn't alone in the fight. Like a good sidekick, Bloody Hands snapped off a shard of ice that she used to stab at the creature that snarled at them in the falling snow. They were experienced pirates. Redbeard knew that. He knew that they could fight and win. But somehow, he was smaller and slower than he expected.

Somehow the feradon's tusks slashing into Bloody Hands belly before the creature snapped her up into the air. She flew.

Redbeard screamed. The feradon took the time to roar a response, which was its mistake. Redbeard snapped off its right tusk and killed it with it. A single stab to the heart and it was dead.

Redbeard looked down into the crevice where Bloody Hands had fallen. There was blood pooled around her head. She wasn't moving.

Redbeard called down. "To the last, I will grapple with the Ice Queen; from hell's heart I'll stab her and that mutineer with her. For hate's sake, I'll spit my last breath at them." He tried to remember where those words had come from.

For a moment, just a moment, Redbeard remembered being Victorius. He remembered one of his Fathers reading to them from _Moby Dick_. He remembered who he was. He understood that his sister had been killed and that it was Euros' fault. Euros and Sherlock's.

Then Redbeard was a pirate again. He whispered, "I'll avenge you. I'll get your heart back."


	5. Sherlock's POV

Sherlock shouldn't have found the chandeliers decorated with dilithium crystals familiar. The palace where he'd spent his formative years had been decorated in baroque decorations. Holograms. To be conformed to his parent's whims.

These spare hallways with wealth casually illuminating the rooms should not have evoked a sense of familiarity.

Except that despite Sherlock not remembering a single thing that he was seeing, the fact that he easily able to follow his younger self was evidence enough. His desire to prevent his own death did not alter his desire to finally know what had occurred.

His younger self slid around a corner into a gymnasium full of equipment. It was evident that he'd used the equipment frequently. His younger self trained and he trained often.

Sherlock did not introduce himself. He approached a set of bars and casually did some flips and rolls. The sort of flashy maneuvers that he knew that he had practiced endlessly as an older child.

It would seem that the same maneuvers interested his younger self too. Because he laughed and clapped. "What's your name?"

Sherlock landed lightly on a mat. He really hadn't thought this through. "Francis Drake." After all, he couldn't very well introduce himself as William, Sherlock, or Scott.

Young Sherlock thought about this very seriously. "He was a pirate."

Sherlock allowed a grin to spread across his face. "A privateer. He had a letter of marque from the queen."

"Whatever," said Victor. "I'm Prince Mshindi Victorius Augustus, first born son of the great Khans. I've decided I want to be called Victor."

Chin said, "I'm Chin Singh. We're all the children of the great Khans."

"I've just decided I'm a him." Victor pointed at Sherlock's younger self, "That's William Sherlock Scott. He's a him too, but if I change my mind he might change his too." His look was challenging.

"Maybe I will. But maybe not," said his younger self, who tilted his head. "Francis, if you were altered to look like Mummy, how were you altered? I don't see any signs."

Sherlock smiled. "A privateer never reveals his resources. He holds them close. Only leaving the dead bodies of those who would tell the tale as a warning to those who follow."

Chin examined him closely. "We can figure it out."

Victor pushed past her. "We're very smart. We're superior to anything and everything. We'll conquer the other alignments when we're strong enough."

"If Mummy and our Fathers can keep from fighting each other," said young Sherlock. He sighed. "They argue a lot."

"Pff," said Victorius. "They can't fight too much, because we're here." He jumped up and swung idly on a bar.

Young Sherlock crept closer. "Have you met any? Did you fight any for treasure?"

"I know stories about pirates," said Victorius landing on the ground with a solid thud.

"Ah, but have you met any?" said Sherlock. Decades in Starfleet had left him with many stories to tell. He wasn't John, to spin a story whole cloth, overly dramatize events, and completely leave out all the relevant facts, but he could suitably alter his own history.

The three children gathered around him as he turned his voyages into a pirate's quest for treasure. For knowledge. Soon they were offering suggestions, mostly Victorius. Some of Chin's remarks about Victor made more sense now that he'd met the boy colored by her own perceptions.

Still, it was chilling to hear Victor say, "We should pick pirate names. I'll be Redbeard."

_A mournful sehlat's howl through his Mind Palace._

Whatever had happened, would happen very soon.


	6. Yellowbeard's POV

Yellowbeard helped his sister climb down over the shale into the protected valley.

She pointed at the icy cave in front of them. "This is my palace." He could see it. The blue spiraling ice staircase and the magnificent ice tapestries. Yellowbeard wished he had a palace as grand as his sister's, but no. Visiting her palace was better. Still, her palace was very cold.

Yellowbeard was thinking about building a fire if there was anything to burn, when Redbeard burst in the wide front door. "Traitor! Mutineer!" He had a serrated tusk in his hand. It was slick with something yellow and greasy.

"I have my own ship so I can't be a mutineer," protested Yellowbeard. "And the Ice Queen is our sister." Yellowbeard wanted to cry. He didn't want to be fighting with Redbeard. They were brothers. They'd had all sorts of adventures on the high seas. "Please, Redbeard. Stop."

Redbeard shook his head. "No. She's evil. She's the villain. She killed Bloody Hands."

"Am not," yelled the Ice Queen. "I didn't. I… I'm not like that."

Suddenly, a giant ice monster appeared. It swiped at Redbeard, but its giant hand swept right through him. Redbeard laughed. "It's not real. Nothing about you is real." Redbeard swung the tusk at the Ice Queen.

Yellowbeard tackled Redbeard.

They rolled and rolled on the rocky ground.

Redbeard's hands were around his throat. Yellowbeard couldn't breathe. He could hold his breath a long time, but not forever. His hands flailed trying to peel Redbeard's fingers away, but they were cold like iron. All sorts of ways to break free flashed through his mind, but he'd have to hurt Redbeard.

Yellowbeard struggled to get air inside him. He needed air.

The Ice Queen screamed. Dragons and trolls and shadows flickered at the edge of his consciousness. Redbeard let go and attacked the Ice Queen. He heard them struggle. He heard a dull thud and something snap. Looked up and saw that the Ice Queen had been thrown against a wall. She was holding her arm and crying silently.

Yellowbeard made himself get up. "Stop it!"

Redbeard turned and slashed the tusk across Yellowbeard's arm and chest. He felt whatever that yellow stuff was dragging him down. Poison. His brother had poisoned him. He felt ill. Numb. He couldn't feel his chest. His heartbeat was very loud. Still he staggered up.

He pushed the Ice Queen behind him and waited for Yellowbeard to make his move.


	7. John's POV

An Augment in full Breen armor came to try to collect Euros shortly into Elsa's journey of self-discovery and reconciliation with her sister, Anna. Tried being the operative word.

Euros looked at the Augment very seriously and said, "I want to finish hearing the story." Then rather ominously. "No one else is wearing armor."

"Milady," said a computerized voice from within the armor. "Of course, the omega can finish the story. But perhaps in a more comfortable location."

John was fine with getting Euros away from a crowd. But still, it wouldn't hurt to let her know this kind of behavior wasn't on. He ate a dried cherry. "Bit not good. You shouldn't threaten to interfere with people's minds like that." He offered her another piece of fruit.

"But if I don't, then I'll never get to hear the end of the story." Euros looked down. Her hair swept over her face. "Please, tell me the end."

"I'll follow where you lead, Your Majesty. Just keep it in mind that kind of behavior does no one any good." They went to the most antiseptic bedroom it had been John's privilege to see and he'd spent his mid-teens in a Catholic school dorm. He finished the story. He sang the songs. Repeated a few so Euros could join in. Sat there listening to Euros after that, who clearly was feeling an Elsa connection and wished she could build a snowman with her siblings, who she was not allowed to play with. Interspersed with comments about the thoughts of the Augments walking around the building around them. "Babies. It's all they think about here. Making them."

John laughed. "Adults can be like that. You'll see." Then remembered what was ahead for her.

She put her hand on his face. "What's your face thinking? I can see it folding and folding, but I can't hear you under the silver lake. What's it thinking?"

"I was thinking that you have a long time before you need to be an adult and that you should enjoy being a child now," said John with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

For a moment, just a moment, he wondered what the future would be like if he could somehow reconcile Euros with her siblings. Was caught up in a pretty idea of what it might be like if they could not only they prevent Sherlock's death as a child, but stop whatever it was that had so harmed him. Maybe stop the isolation that had left Sherlock so touch deprived when they'd met.

So, he listened to Euros. He tried to explain the castle analogy that Hudson had taught him years ago as a way to shield her mind, but without being able to talk to her mind to mind, it was hard to get across. She seemed to get a bit of it, which turned the voices down to a low whisper. He said, "Your mother should get you some proper telepaths to teach you." He said it loudly enough for the armor clad Breen standing by the door to hear.

"They tried," said Euros. She twisted her face into her shoulder. "But it hurt, and the telepath screamed and then Mummy had to kill him, because he was… he knew things."

John blew out a breath, because Sherlock's family was killing him just a bit, and squeezed her shoulder. "Not your fault."

"That's not what everyone thinks." Euros sniffed. "Your face is folding again," said Euros.

"Like origami," said John. "Fold it all the time. But maybe things won't always be so bad with your siblings. I happen to know that Sherlock is very sweet once you get to know him."

"Who? Oh! I see. William Sherlock Scott. Sherlock. The middle. The heart. A Sherlock would be much nicer than a William any day." She tilted her head right and left, as if scenting the air. "He's very sad right now."

The armored Breen said, "Milady, I'm afraid it's time for your guest to go. It's time for your treatment."

"Don't want to," said Euros mutinously. There was a brief butterfly moment as thoughts flitted over her expression. Then she smiled and it was Sherlock's real person smile. "But fine. I'll go."

John tried to follow. He wasn't sure how he bollocks up following a little girl and the only Breen in armor in a crowd, but he managed it. He did manage to backtrack to Sherlock's com badge. His Sherlock came out the gymnasium where his younger self was playing and listened to his explanation with a wry expression. "I am familiar with your deficiencies in discretely following targets." He kissed John's cheek. "You have other fine qualities."

Course that would be when the window shattered in the gymnasium. "Oh, for fuck's sake." John ran into the room, but whichever children had been inside, they were already out the window and gone.

The snow wasn't coming down that heavily. The real problem was the thousand or so teenagers streaming around them in some sort of race towards a rise several thousand meters away.

They lost seconds. Minutes. A good deal of the trail was well trampled snow. "Which way do we go?" John asked.

Sherlock turned and turned looking at the sharply serrated mountains around them. "That way!" He pointed. He was either reading the terrain or remembered something. He didn't explain. Either way, they headed towards a set of canyons between towering cliffs of blue ice.


	8. Euros' POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Look at the tags. On scene murder, angst, answer to what exactly happened to Sherlock & Victor.

Euros didn't understand. She knew her siblings played games all the time. Games hunting and foraging. Tactical games. Strategy games. She knew that other children played pretend. She'd heard them. She walked in their dreams since Mummy said they were going to try an experiment, because she'd been doing so well, and let her leave the lonely palace where all the people were illusions.

She had been doing well. The story man gave her an idea and it was easy to slip away from her doctor and her guard. To go see her brothers and sisters. To go play with them.

She didn't understand how everything had gone so wrong.

But Sherlock was the one who wanted to play with her and make a snowman. So he was her Anna. She had to save him from Victor.

Not far away, a mother feradon was wailing for her cub. Euros made her wailing stop, because her cub was alive and in danger. As it roared into the icy narrows, Euros called to it in the voice of its cub. "

She kept calling even as she flung visions at Victor. Even as she threw a rock at him to get him off of Sherlock. Kept the sound of the feradon's approach out of Victor's mind as Sherlock pushed her behind him to face Victor.

A slashing claw caught Victor across the chest. Flung him into the wall. Sharp yellow teeth snapped. But Sherlock, who was supposed to be on her side, jumped on the feradon's back. "Stay away from him." Gouged at the creature's eyes. Yelled. "Redbeard, toss me the tusk."

Victor made a feeble throw. The tusk tumbled in the air. Sherlock dropped from where he was and caught it. Stabbed up through the feradon's head. It fell forward. Half crushing him.

Euros was crying. She hurt. Her arm hurt. Victor had hurt her. "No. No. No. You're supposed to be my friend."

Victor laughed. Blood bubbled from his lips. "You lose."

She didn't really mean to do what she did next. She didn't mean to pick a memory that was still bruised in Sherlock's memory and squeeze it even tighter. She didn't mean to say, "Your pet sehlat saved us. It saved us from the nasty beast. But now it's really injured. It needs to be put out of its pain."

Sherlock nodded wearily. Tears leaking down his cheeks. He staggered towards Victor, who tried to crawl away. "No, it's not real. Yellowbeard, the Ice Queen has a spell on you." The twist and snap of his neck was real enough. The sound made her wince. It made her lose her grip on Sherlock's mind.

He stared at Victor. At his hands still curled around Victor's head. "Why? Why did I do that?"

Sherlock was screaming inside. Victor's skin was warm and soft under his fingers. His hair thick and smooth. He wasn't breathing.

She tried to explain. She even told him the truth. Victor's last thought before the bad horrible sound. "Victor's the one who injured your pet. An old cataract knife to the tendons." Sherlock was screaming inside and so utterly silent outside. "It was Victor's fault."

The soft sweet center that that the story man had told her was there was crumbling and falling apart.

Sherlock was screaming inside and he hated her. He hated himself.

She didn't mean to do what she did next. She seared the crumbling bits. She seared them all away. Sherlock fell to the ground, shuddering, twitching, but at least he wasn't screaming any more.

He wasn't mad at her any more.

He wasn't anything.

He was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: The specific instrument used in the laming of Sherlock's pet comes from the laming of the sheep in "Silver Blaze".


	9. Sherlock's POV

At first, Sherlock wasn't even sure that they were going in the right direction. The ground had been utterly trampled by the teens on their run. Thinking about those children, about the few moments he'd spent with Victor, with himself, he turned away from the Sunrise road and towards the ice canyons, which was the more direct route to the Valley of the Ancestors.

Ancestors.

Descendants.

The terrain was different, but he had roamed all over this region five thousand years ago.

All roads appeared to lead back there.

Soon he was able to pick out the footprints of the children heading into the canyons. The air was bitterly cold. Even with his level of augmentation, Sherlock felt the bite of it. Behind him, John followed steadily without complaint.

The tracks led to the corpse of a juvenile feradon. One if its tusks had been snapped near the root. He read the scuff marks on the ground like a report. He looked down into a narrow crevice. At the bottom lay young Chin. That she had been alive in the future was no guarantee that she was still alive now. There was blood frozen in a gagged pattern around her head. Her body was bent at a strange angle. From where they were, he couldn't tell if she was alive or dead.

John was already kneeling and pulling a rope out of his rucksack. Sherlock put his hand over John's. "There's no time."

"Sherlock, we have to check her condition. We have to…" John paused and visibly thought. Unclenched fists and understood what Sherlock was saying. What Sherlock was trusting John to do.

John pulled a body stabilization cast, a thermal blanket, and a hypospray out of his pack. "If her pulse is thready, give her two ccs of pheladrohol." He shouldered his rucksack and swallowed. "Be careful." He set off down the canyon.

_"You could die. The better strategy would have been for you to go," said First Father. "You're faster and stronger."_

_"Caring is not an advantage," said Mycroft._

_"Perhaps, that's why you keep spying on me," said Sherlock._

_Mummy said, "John couldn't save her. He's not strong enough to carry her. Not with injuries she must have sustained."_

He tied the rope around a large rock, but he wouldn't be using is on the way down. He gouged quick hand holds with his hands in the ice and made the last thirty feet as a simple drop.

He knelt next to Chin. She was breathing. Her pulse was erratic. There was a large gash where she'd been gored by the feradon, which meant that she was being effected by the neurotoxin in addition to the injuries from her fall – spine broken at T3, broken ribs, skull fracture – and her incipient hypothermia. Sherlock injected her with the hypospray, immobilized her body in the cast, and wrapped her in the thermal blanket. The climb back was tediously infinite. He could not afford to go quickly. He had to be absolutely steady and hold her securely.

It was exhausting even for him. When he reached the top, he released the rope from stiff fingers. Forced himself to his feet and wrapped them both in the blanket. Giving her what body heat he could in the rudimentary cloak that it made. He went back in the direction he'd come from. Out from the canyons and into the trampled plain. There in the snow, he was met by his parents. Their faces obscured in the falling snow, but he would have known them if the world had been nothing but white.

He yelled, "I have Chin. She's been injured. Poisoned by a juvenile feradon. Broken bones. My husband is going after the other children."

Second Father turned on Mother. "This was your plan all along wasn't it? My share in the alliance dead at the hands of that chimera you created. You should have left your monster in the labyrinth."

Mummy said, "You think that I planned this!"

First Father stood between them. "They are all our children."

"Some more than others," bit out Second Father.

Sherlock felt something not unlike a black slick of externalized bile rise up in him. At this repetition of so many moments before. "Chin needs medical care. Your other children headed that way." Couldn't resist adding. "If you care!" He pointed in the direction of the ice canyons and left them there.

Sherlock was aware of the purpose of the Meiosis of Alignments. It was quite literally in the name of the event. Sherlock identified the primary laboratory based on the power units. Wondered that he'd been so confused the last time he was on this world to wander into a temple instead. He found a dozen or so of doctors working in a reproductive lab. They clustered around him and peeled the child out of his arms, which felt empty without her weight.

He found himself face to face with Mycroft, who stared at him wide eyed.

He looked young. A child. A teenager, true. Little more than a child then. He hadn't looked at him for long before. Intent on himself. It was surprising now to think Mycroft ever had been a child, but the evidence was there before him.

Mycroft said, "Who are you?"

Sherlock didn't repeat his lie about being an agent. Instead he said, "When you've eliminated all other possibilities, you'll find that whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth." He didn't linger. He could trust Mycroft at least to ensure Chin got the care she needed.

He had to go back. He had to find John.

He had to find himself and the others.


	10. Mycroft's POV

Mummy refused to say what the evidence of the cave where his siblings had been found indicated. An indication of their loss of trust in him.

Mycroft silently had Khan Meiying's transport made ready for her. Chin Singh was placed on a transport pallet and transferred to her care. Her place in the medical lab was taken by William looking pale and still. Motionless.

His injuries were superficial. Unlike Victor's.

Their healing abilities were amazing, but even they could not heal from some things.

But William didn't wake up. His brain scans gave more than ample evidence as to why.

Euros would not wake up. Cast into sleep in a cryo chamber by Khan Noonian Singh's own hand. Another sign of Mycroft's failure to control events.

Mycroft looked down at his brother's small still form under the white medical sheet. Eyes closed. Absent of the energy and activity that had been a part of him from the moment he was decanted from the uterine replicator, a tiny wailing bundle in Mummy's hands.

Mummy stood behind him. Mycroft was certain that their condemnation for Mycroft's failure to control the situation was thick in their silence. Censure at Mycroft's inability to manage events in each drip of the IV. Maternal reproof that he hadn't kept his siblings safe accompanied the beep of the equipment.

Mycroft broke before Mother – naturally. "I can fix this."

"Can you? Can you fix this? Can you bring the dead back to life? Can you transform Euros so that she is not lying frozen in a cryo chamber as I once was? Can you fix…" They stopped abruptly. "The mistake is mine. I relied too much too soon. I should never have told you what lies in William's future."

"But Mummy, we haven't disappeared from existence. That should mean there's hope. Sherlock will survive. He must."

The squeeze of their hand on Mycroft's shoulder was all the reminder that Mycroft needed that he was also a disappointment. That the first Mycroft, that often storied child Mummy had valued enough to clone, would not have failed. Mycroft crushed the familiar thought that Mummy hadn't cared enough to ensure that that perfect first version had made it onto the sleeper ships fleeing Earth.

He reminded himself that the first Mycroft hadn't been so perfect that Mummy hadn't decided to add a strand of Vulcan DNA to the mix. He steeled his spine and looked at Mummy. "My mind to his mind. I can heal what Euros broken."

Mummy's eyes flickered from Mycroft to William. The lights over the bio-bed blinking.

Their nod was subtle. Another squeeze of the shoulder.

Mycroft had been studying the theory of what to do. He wanted a thousand opportunities to test theory.

Before he could say anything, Mummy silently left the room.

Mycroft placed his right hand on the fragile curve of his brother's face. "My mind to your mind," and told himself that he could repair the damage. A pet in place of a brother. Not a lie. A substitution. A wall around a frozen ruin. A place to heal in the same facility under the Mare of Acquisition where Euros had been kept.

Was rewarded finally, with a flicker of eyes that didn't know him.

He wanted to promise William that he'd never let anything like that happen again, but couldn't.

He knew too much about the future.


	11. John's POV

John wasn't sure he was up to this. To whatever he'd find. He took those emotions and buried them. Soldiered up and kept on. Crawled and climbed his way to the highest point in the ice canyon and into a valley that was achingly familiar beyond.

He muttered, "Buggery fuck." There was the cave he'd spent nearly a year living in. Weathered. The waterfall was gone. There had been an avalanche sometime in the last five thousand years that further obscured the cave entrance, but it was still the same valley and cave.

The body of a massive creature lay by the entrance. Slightly further in were two small forms lying on the ground and Euros sitting between then. It didn't take a tricorder to tell that her arm was broken.

Young Sherlock was alive, but non-responsive. John gave him a simulant, but there was no reaction. Outer extremities were absolutely white. Body pulling blood into the central core to keep it warm.

The other child, Victorius, was dead. His neck broken. He had other injuries, but that was the main one.

He set Euros' arm with a gel cast. She said, "Sherlock didn't know it was Victor," which told him all he couldn't see by looking at the trampled tracks. She kicked at his leg. Unable to get at his mind. "I didn't know this would happen. I thought it would be fun." She glared at him. "Why wasn't it fun? Why did this happen?"

John rummaged through his pack for a knife. She recoiled, and he gave her a stern look. "I just set your arm, but yeah, it's about to get less fun. I need to get the two of you warmed up. Your body mass cannot handle these temperatures for long. He sliced open the belly of the creature. Guts and steam roiled out into the frigid air. "I need you to crawl in there."

She stared at him.

"My husband is getting help. But that may be hours yet. I can't carry both of you, I'm concerned about moving either of you further into the cave, the temperature differential is sucking the cold air into the cave, and the temperature is dropping. So, crawl into the bloody beast."

"What about Sherlock?"

"I'll put him in with you."

"Then its fine," said Euros. She wrinkled her face and crawled backwards into the belly of the beast.

John carefully pushed Sherlock in next to her. Looked at that still face and promised himself he'd try again and again if Sherlock didn't make it. "Don't you know? I always save you." The boy didn't respond.

He had a couple of chem heat sticks in his bag. Supplies for a very different trip. He lit them. It wasn't enough to heat the cave. He made a tent over himself by draping the thermal blanket over himself and the creature. With the sticks between his legs and the children stashed in the creature, it should keep them from going into hypothermia.

He wasn't but half relieved when Noonian and Brittanus shoved their way into the cave. Wearing thick coats, because even Khans felt the cold.

"Daddy!" Euros pulled herself, wet with blood and vicera, out of the creature and into Noonian's arms. Noonian looked over at Brittanus, who was staring at little Sherlock. There were tears in Brittanus' cold eyes. Then again, maybe they looked cold because John knew what Brittanus had planned for Sherlock.

He almost laid into his mother-in-law, but didn't.

Brittanus tenderly wrapped little Sherlock in a blanket.

John said, "He's been non-responsive since I got here. I gave him three ccs of antripan and two ccs of pheladrohol to counteract the nerve agent in the creature's toxin. I believe he has significant brain damage from psychic manipulation of his amygdala, which explains his…"

"Your service has been noted and will be rewarded." Brittanus swept off leaving John and Noonian to stare at each other.

John said, "What will happen to Euros?"

Noonian didn't answer, but Euros said softly. "They'll freeze me. Will it be cold?"

"No," said Noonian.

"Please, don't lie, daddy. Daddy's shouldn't lie." Noonian's face was shuttered and drawn.

All John could do was follow Noonian out of the cave and into the ice canyons.

An arm reached out and pulled him back into another twist of the ice. Sherlock. John fell into his arms, whispering, "He's fine. You're fine. You'll be fine."

"Then it is time to return," boomed the Guardian. Two steps and they were back in the ruined plaza again.

John said, "So it's all back to the way it was."

"The timeline had been restored," said the Guardian. "I have returned you to the moment that you left."

Sherlock looked into the shifting colors at the center of the Guardian. "I still don't remember Victor or Chin as children."

"Your lack of memories are a result of the trauma that you sustained. Do you wish to go back and attempt to alter events again?" asked the Guardian. "Limitless journeys are possible through me."

"No!" said Sherlock. "We won't spend eternity spent attempting to change a single event." The lights from the Guardian played across his face. For a moment, one eye appeared green and the other brown.

"Are there any other journeys that you wish to attempt?" asked the Guardian.

It was the sort of question that echoed around the plaza and into the sharp squeeze of John's heart. "Is there another one we should take?" asked John, feeling more than a little shattered.

"The timeline is as it was when you arrived. But I am the door to all times and places. Limitless adventures are possible through me."

"Uh," said John, moving closer to Sherlock. "I think we should pass if it's not critical for saving the Federation or our lives." John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist. "Love, let's go home."

They walked through ruined city in silence. Sh'Alaack was waiting with an impatient Doctor Erickson. "Captain, I was able to raise the Bakerstreet a few minutes after you left."

They beamed up to the cheery blue of Transporter Room Cloud and John had never been happier to see a place. They went to their quarters where John cooked a meal a good sight more comforting than algae cakes.

As Sherlock pushed pieces of bread and butter pudding around his plate, John rested his bare foot on top of Sherlock's. To let him know he was there when he was ready to respond to what John had told him about what he'd found.

Instead, Sherlock asked. "You met my parents."

"Yeah, an odd duck trio, your mum in particular, but," he pressed down with his foot to let Sherlock know it was fine, "they did at least one thing right. You."

Sherlock looked away. Profile pale and set. "I thought about it on planet. Doing it again. But I saved Chin Singh from her injuries. Another choice might not have that result, or another could have resulted in my retaining my memories. Growing up with my siblings. Avoiding the damage to my mind."

John chased a piece of buttered bread around the blue and white pattern on his plate. "Could have gone back to Taurus IV. Told my father to wait just one more day before killing all those folks." Pushed that bit of pastry over the blue outline of a British farm in the seventeenth century. "Could have gone back and done something to stop Harry from going off the rails." He leaned forward and captured Sherlock's hand. "Gone back and warned us to wait for a few days before taking off and skipped the whole Breen home world adventure."

He decided that he wasn't close enough and came around the table to straddle Sherlock's lap, who was still looking away. "Course then neither of us would exist and that would be a good sight harder for us to fix."

"Time paradox," muttered Sherlock with some loathing. Then after a bit of a snuggle, Sherlock said into the fold of John's neck, "I thought about returning to save the younger me from the holographic palace where I grew up. Or prevented my parents from transporting me from the Academy," he looked up, "being there when you found out after that first time," and John knew like cold lead what he meant. "But any of those things would have unraveled the whole of where we are now."

"Yeah." John kissed one of those sharp cheeks. Like and completely unlike Brittanus' cold profile. "Try to fix one thing and unravel the whole mess."

That was when it all somehow just sort of fell into place. Not in a moment of panicked reaction, but there in their home. He kissed Sherlock softly and got up. Found a tablet on the counter. Pulled up a fairly specific file from Sickbay and handed it to Sherlock.

"What's this?" asked his ever curious husband.

"Look at it."

He watched Sherlock's eyes scan over the details of his invention. That little line crease in his forehead. "This is a design for a device that can remove blastocysts and placenta from in-vivo and store them in holo cubes. Where did you get this?"

"I made it." John wanted to climb back into Sherlock's lap, but he made himself stand where he was. "At the Academy. A few weeks after your parents scarpered you from your quarters. After…" he took a deep breath, because really this was it. "We shared my heat that first time and I realized I was pregnant. I've uh… used it a few times since." Lifted his chin, "Many times since." He steeled himself for all sorts of reactions. He wasn't really expecting a laugh. A rush of motion. An embrace. To be lifted off the floor. Kissing. There was a lot of kissing.

Finally Sherlock slid him back down to the ground. Bodies still pressing against each other. "You kept them. You wanted to keep them."

"Yeah, uh, there are a lot of them." John felt compelled to point out. "More than any one Human could have at this point. It's actually kind of ridiculous how fertile I am for you."

Sherlock's wild smile shone on John. "You kept them. Even though you must have thought I'd abandoned you, you found a way to keep them."

"I…" John tried to remember what his reasoning for inventing such a device had been so long ago, but as was the case in most situations like this, Sherlock was right. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Show me." Sherlock's smile was infectious. Full of delight. Like a sparkling sea. "I want to see them."

John held Sherlock's hand all the way down to Sickbay. He only let go when he needed both hands to pull a well-worn box out of the bottom drawer of his desk. He turned on the privacy shield while Sherlock examined its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a couple more chapters to go in this particular story (not sure why the count was off), but I didn't want to hold onto this one now that we've reached this point.


	12. Chin Singh's POV

Chin stood with the other teenagers now that she was finally old enough to compete and waited for the signal to begin the run to the Cave of the Ancestors. Not her ancestors, of course.

The 23rd alignment were poor cousins at the Breen table. Taken in as genetic oddities. Freed because they were the same as the Breen, but not like them. Originating on some parallel Earth. Chin had studied a few of those in curiosity. Given some resources in the hopes they'd be able to reverse the damage the Breen had done to themselves. A few. Then left to govern themselves.

Father Meiying felt that all these alignments should bow to their true superiority. Chin wondered sometimes if Father Meiying thought she was still running her Khanate in North America on Earth. Certainly, that came up often enough over meals.

Father Noonian had endless strategies for how they could leverage what they had been given to grow if they would just join forces. Although, negotiations often failed on Father Noonian's suggestion that Euros be freed from her prison.

He kept bringing it up. As if she could ever forgive what had happened.

While Mummy… Chin always felt like a poor third to if either Victor or William had lived. She knew her existence kept her parents sniping from dissolving into open warfare, small as their forces were.

The only reason the 23rd Alignment functioned at all was because of Mycroft.

Not that she'd tell him that.

But that was going to change. She was going to complete in this race and she would finish it first. She would show her parents that she could do all that her brothers would have done.

"Good luck, Lady Chin Singh," said an omega boy a few feet from her.

_New gold ring. 19 th Alignment style. Creche matriarch picked it out. At least ten indicators of nervousness. Three indicators he found her attractive. Four indicators he wished to shock his matriarch with a relationship with an alpha from her alignment. Wrong title. Wrong style of address._

She ignored him.

When the ancient gunpowder weapon was fired, she took off at a steady pace. Most chose to go the safe long route through the Sunrise valley. The adults had been lighting fire all week to drive off the feradons that lived in the Serrated Mountains.

She had nothing to fear from a feradon. She'd survived one before. She was an Augment Superior. She was not a child. Her ability to heal was fully mature. She'd already healed so many injuries.

Chin ran into the ever changing ice canyons.

This was not the plan that Mycroft had given her. He'd spent a great deal of time strategizing her run over the last few weeks. Admittedly, he'd been the one to convince her parents that she should participate for the advantage of their alignment. The winner's alignment was credited one hundred in genetic trade at the next Meiosis. Not that the 23rd conducted any trades.

As if she cared about that. She raised waved in the direction of the droid that was no doubt monitoring her progress. Somewhere Mycroft was cursing at his inability to control the path of every molecule in the universe.

Mummy would give some faint praise for doing as well as was expected. Father Noonian would comment on the strategic benefits of taking the shorter path. Father Meiying thought she was a fool for participating in Breen rites of passage.

She ran this way to try to remember the day everything fell apart. Brain damage. All she really remembered was the illusion. What Euros had done. The feradon. The fall. She was here to defeat what she did remember.

She sprinted between towering blue cliffs. Clawed her way up sheer green ice walls when the way twisted in on itself and into the howling winds. Dropped back down into the sheltered canyons when a way opened up again.

She did not fall into an abyss. She did not break her back.

Again.

A feradon did not leap out at her. She did not lose her way. She didn't stumble when Euros – she would never call that bitch her sister – made her see what wasn't there. Her brother, who could do anything, did not leave her behind. There was no need for a stranger from another alignment, or so she'd been told, to carry her back to her parents.

She climbed the final cliff. A green so clear that it could have been jade. Weak sunlight tried to blind her from all directions. From the top, it was a matter of climbing down the shale ridge and into the Valley of the Ancestors and into the low cave entrance at the top of the valley.

As she entered, the monitor registered her bracelet. A computerized voice congratulated her on the best recorded time in the history of the race. Her bracelet, synced with the monitor, displayed a map of the cave and began to recite facts. She turned it off.

She didn't need it.

She climbed up into the gallery where the best preserved cave paintings were. The rest of the year, the entire site was protected by a force field. This was the only day when Breen were allowed into the cave. The only time in a Breen's life when they came to this place. As far as Chin was concerned, the Breen were a little too obsessed with genealogy.

Still, she'd spent a lot of time in the museum over the years studying the paintings in this cave. Looking at the real thing, she thought not for the first time that the painting of the largest Alpha's face reminded her of Mummy. "It looks like William would have looked." She told the still air in the cave. There was no painting that resembled Victor and by extension Father Noonian. There was no painting that looked like her.

Chin reached into the padded front of her vest and pulled out the stone marker that she'd carried all this way. It was supposed to be carved with her own name to be added to the chapel in the Breen's temple of ancestors. Chin was one generation away from an experiment three centuries old. 

She'd carved Victor and William's names instead.

It lay in the palm of her hand. Nothing more than a rock. She intended to leave it in the cave.

She went through the twisting turns up into a small gallery off a side chamber where there was a screen that listed those who had died on this run over the years. She found Mshindi Victorius Augustus quickly enough. She pressed her fingers to the screen. "From hell's heart, I'll spit in her eye," she promised him. But she couldn't find William Sherlock Scott. Not searching. Not scrolling.

Which could only mean one thing.

She came out of the cave, and stopped short. Mycroft was sitting on the remnants of a petrified tree.

"Where is William?"

"Sherlock. When he woke from his coma, he insisted on being called by his second name." Mycroft looked at his own gloved hands. "By some unexpected coincidence he broke free of his routine today. But rather than taking the most dangerous possible route in a race." At the other end of the valley, the first of the other runners came through the Sunrise gate. "Instead of continuing his latest set of experiments in the palace where Mummy thought to keep him safe, he found the flaw I left for him, slipped through the defenses and ran away."

Chin didn't ask why the fact that William had lived had been kept a secret from her. It could have any number of reasons. _Spare heir. Bargaining chip in her parents' eternal negotiations. They feared she'd hurt him. She did remember enough of what had happened while under Euros control to remember that. She had studied history. Princes didn't always get along._

Really only Mummy and her fathers could answer that question. They wouldn't. They'd never answered a single question that she'd asked. Ranted. Raved. Pontificated. Panegyrics. But never an answer to why or what or how.

She had planned to dedicate herself to finding where Euros was being kept and driving the tusk of a long dead feradon through that bitches' icy chest. But if William was alive. If the other third of herself was out there, she wanted to see him.

"Tell me where he is!" Because Mycroft had to know. He knew where everyone and everything was.

"There's something else you should know. Mummy and your fathers' are not aware of what I am about to show you, but," he looked at the valley, "this is the one place with no surveillance."

She was almost afraid to ask, but she was the daughter of Khans. "What is it?"

He handed her a data pad. "This is the alpha who saved your life when you were a child."

She looked at it. She held it for a long time. Thumb moving over the slick surface of the screen. Thinking. Looking at an image from surveillance footage from the genetics facility.

"I had all recordings of the footage from that day modified except that one. Mummy tried to reward the person who saved your life, but could not locate them."

She said absently, "It would be difficult for Mummy to reward..." the name strange in her mouth, "Sherlock. Time travel, I presume."

"Over the years, I've identified at least four methods, he could have used. I wasn't even certain it was him at the time. Too many other possibilities I needed to eliminate first."

She noted he still hadn't said where present day William, Sherlock, her brother, had been kept.

"Mummy, as you might imagine, was very upset that there had been a hole in security that allowed Sherlock to escape, but," Mycroft sighed that weary, annoying, older brother sigh, that had plagued her all her life. "If he could not escape, then he could not have saved you, and based on my analysis of events, his partner could not have saved Sherlock. Mummy was too blind to see that the palace was… not a healthy place for him. The only way through all of this was if…" he smiled sourly, "he were out of our control. We have to trust," another sour twist, "he'll come back."

She looked at him sharply.  "Take me to where you were keeping him."

Mycroft gestured at the small light speeder perched in the sacred valley directly against any number of rules. Chin won the race to get inside.

Not that she did any better finding where William – where Sherlock – might have gone in the wide galaxy. She looked around the palace where he'd been kept and it told her any number of things about her sibling's life there. Solitary. Focused on study. Quixotic to have added scents to the holograms. Or perhaps necessary for anything to seem real at all.

But it didn't tell her where in the galaxy he might have gone.

She couldn't even figure out where the flaw was that he'd used to get out given that every centimeter was not only under constant surveillance, but was actively being created every moment. Still, she didn't plan on spending a decade trying to find it. She walked through familiar rooms decorated with familiar things. She may as well have been walking through Mummy's palace on the world the Breen had set aside for them.

Chin walked through the ornamental garden and over the ornamental river rushing below the cliff on which the palace had been perched and looked at the beautiful sky above. The entire thing was a hologram. Populated with holographic servants to teach and serve any need Sherlock might have had. A massive expenditure of energy when all their parents needed to have done was bring Sherlock home to the real thing.

She confronted her parents to the expected result.

She looked.

Found nothing in the wide galaxy.

Then looked less.

Then she looked less than that.

She was an adult with an adult's responsibilities.

A prince of a Khanate that was never going to be at the rate her parents were going. Still, she was sure it was not a coincidence that she was in a lab on the border of Cardassian space researching ways to defeat the Borg should they arrive in local space when Mummy finally found Sherlock on Earth of all places – and a Starfleet officer at that – and kidnapped him to get him out of the path of the Borg.

She heard about that second hand. Grendel was a bit of a gossip.

Chin could almost have resented Sherlock for escaping and defeating the Borg.

A military secret that had Father Noonian seething in admiration at the strategic power of the Federation, while Father Meiying commented that of course an Augment's role was suppressed. Mummy merely staid, "He could have been killed."

Almost could have resented.

Almost.

She was too busy fabricating the right identity for what she called reconnaissance. A year or so among the enemy learning their weaknesses. Father Noonian laughed and told her it was well past time that she ran away from home. Mummy was enigmatic as usual. Father Meiying reminded her of her duty.

Her identity with a little nudging led her to being appointed the new head of the Bakerstreet's engineering's department. Although, with her brother where he was, she took the precaution of spreading such evidence in Mummy’s cryochambers that would put the focus on her should the need arise. She took the precaution of changing her appearance. All the while hoping he'd see through it. Her scent had changed with adulthood, but she was still his sister.

She tried to decide what it meant that he was using a middle name as his given name. What did the choice of the patronymic Holmes mean? What did his choice of a life in Starfleet signify? What did any of it mean?

Beaming onto the Bakerstreet was surreal. The Transporter Room had been painted to look like a forest. There was a fake fireplace in Sherlock's Ready Room.

She looked him in the eyes and she willed him to remember her. To know her.

He didn't. He thought they'd met at a conference. He said he'd deleted her. He huffed. Flung himself in and out of his seat. Stood by the fireplace. Stood on the table.

She wondered if that meant he had lasting brain damage from what Euros had done and if she shouldn't go back to her original plan of find the dangerous thing's cryo chamber and impale her heart a few dozen times for what she'd cost Chin.

Lieutenant Watson took her aside afterwards and told her, "Don't mind Commander Holmes. He may think he can delete people and go on like a loon, but…" he smiled widely at Chin, "once you get to know him, he's the wisest, best, person I've ever met."

No one had ever described her parents like that. The aching part of that thought was she had no idea where to put the thought.

Even more of an ache was the thought that if he didn't remember her, how had Sherlock known to go back in time to save her life.

Because as she learned shortly after joining the crew, Sherlock knew exactly how to travel back in time. Had discovered a method one week into his command of the Bakerstreet.

As she found out after a series of intensely interesting conversations with Sherlock, could easily have had a cloaked ship above the planet. Had the technology to do that too.

But why would he have if he didn't remember her? Didn't know she'd ever been in danger? She considered simply revealing herself, but that felt like cheating. Also, Mummy had been more than a bit firm on the point that she shouldn't. She started to tell him a dozen times while they worked on projects together. The time the 221C crashed. Each time the 221C crashed. It really was a trouble prone shuttle name. But could never quite bring herself to. Kept getting stuck on the idea that he might find her wanting.

Then as the more time that went on, as she made friends on the ship, fell in love with Billy, the less certain she was that she wanted what her parents wanted. Wanted an empire. It did make her wonder just what shape her life would have taken if Victor had lived.

In her memory, he shone. The best of them.

In her day dreams, both she and Sherlock were minor cogs away while Victor gripped the burden of rule with both hands.

Almost as good as any story Victor had once told them.


	13. Euros' POV

Euros blinked away frost from her eyelashes and was sorry to see it go.

Mycroft was droning at her about something. He'd built walls in his head since she'd last seen him. He'd gotten old. Older. She'd remained the same. Frozen.

She could have broken those walls, but was too distracted. She flinched when she heard the name Chin. He said, "She's very angry about what happened, and quite transparent about her plans to kill you, which I'm afraid Khan Meiying encourages. It's the reason your father, Khan Noonian, latched onto the idea of waking you, but you must…" He droned on.

Which wasn't fair. She hadn't meant for anything to happen the way it had. She hadn't meant… she'd only wanted.

She would have responded, but Gomtuu sang in her mind. A friend. An ally. A home that was really real. A place to be the Ice Queen.

She stepped inside and Gomtuu wriggled away through space on a thought. Wriggled all the Breen who'd come with her out.

She giggled, because Mycroft hadn't known Gomtuu could do that. Gomtuu sang her the song of a star when she shared the images of what had happened. Purple squiggle green meant Gomtuu wouldn't let her be put back in her cage. Not now that they'd found each other.

But she needed to find her Anna. Her pirate knight so they could go play.


	14. Sherlock's POV

Given the sheer number of combinations he and John had achieved, it wasn't remotely practical to consider bringing each of them to full gestation, but that it was a possibility with any of them was delightful. That he could at least see what those combinations were. Calculate phenotypes based on genetic markers.

Sherlock held in his hand the last cube. The creation of which was what had triggered his flight through the time portal. He put it down and picked up the very first cube.

_Mycroft said, "You know exactly what would have happened if Mummy hadn't kidnapped you."_

_John's odalisque said, "If you had been present when John's scent shifted. When the marks on his neck bloomed bright red to indicate what had happened." He twisted to display the pale marks on his own neck. Put a hand on his flat belly._

_Mummy said, "You'd have been desperate to save every one of them."_

It was such a vivid and sudden image that for a moment he thought it was real. That he'd kidnapped John and swept him off to a hidden palace inside a moon. Liberated thirteen uterine replicators and used them. Used a palace full of holograms to care for them. That the halls of that hollow place rang with the sounds of children and John's rage.

_There was a call from the mast of a sailing ship in his interior sea and he was relieved._

John would never have let him get away with something like that.

He put the cube down.

"So, now you know," said John.

"Now I know," said Sherlock.

"What do you think we should do with them? We can't exactly have all of them." John smiled weakly. "They'd out-number the crew two to one."

"Two point three to one," said Sherlock absently.

"Yeah. Fine. What do you think?"

Which was a somewhat astonishing question. The simple answer was keep them safe. Not tell his parents. He had no idea.

Sherlock picked up the box to take back to their room. Firmly. Carefully. Just as firmly took John's hand, the one with the wedding ring, and kissed it. "We'll figure something out."

**Author's Note:**

> Which brings us to the end of Season 6. All that's left is season 7, with 6 and a whole a lot of plot to come to roost.


End file.
